aAngel,a Hawk whispered. Then, even more softly, aMy sweet, generous woman. What am I going to do with you?a There was no answer for the long term. There was only now, this moment, and the generous warmth Hawk knew awaited him within Angel.
Without waking Angel up, Hawk found one of the foil packets that had been scattered across the bed in their haste. He smiled, remembering.
A few moments later Hawkas hand slid beneath the covers, finding and touching Angelas breast, kneading it gently as his lips nestled in the curve of her neck. Slowly, languidly, Hawk caressed Angelas body, calling to her wordlessly until she moved with his touch, neither asleep nor yet awake, suspended in a beautiful sensual dream.
Her body melted, wanting him.
aAngel,a Hawk said, his voice husky as he parted her legs. aAngel.a Her eyelids fluttered open in response to Hawkas deep-voiced call. He waited until he knew that Angel was awake, aware, looking into her eyes . . . and in that instant he slid into her, taking her completely.
His slow, sensual invasion undid Angel. Her soft cries of ecstasy rippled through Hawk, undoing him in turn. He flew with her, spiraling quickly upward into a sky that was neither cold nor dark, but hot and bright and infinite.
When Angel had the breath and the strength to speak again, she whispered her love against the warmth and power of Hawkas shoulder. His answer was an exquisitely gentle movement that made her cry out and cling to him all over again.
aHawk,a Angel said finally, her breath uneven, aweare going to miss the tide again.a He murmured something against her neck.
aWhat?a she asked.
Reluctantly, he lifted his lips from her fragrant skin. aI set the alarm a bit early,a he admitted.
Angelas eyes lit with understanding and laughter.
aSuch a clever hawk,a she said. aIall have to reward you.a aYou already have,a Hawk said smiling.
Angelas breath stopped at the beauty of his smile. She touched his lips with fingers that trembled, measuring anew the depth of her love for this hard and gentle man.
aWhat are you thinking?a Hawk asked, wondering at the emotions he sensed quivering through Angel.
aHow much I love you.a Hawkas eyes closed.
aI shouldnat let you,a he said fiercely.
With a harsh sound Hawk pulled Angel against him and buried his head between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
aOh, G.o.d, what am I going to do?a he asked starkly. aI canat love you and I canat let you go.a Gently, Angel stroked Hawkas hair, trying to comfort him, to tell him that she understood.
And, sadly, she did.
She understood that every time she told him of her love, it brought him pain rather than pleasure. Hawk didnat want to hurt her. Angel knew that as certainly as he knew that she loved him. Yet he believed himself incapable of love.
And, believing that, he would hurt her as surely as she loved him.
She understood that, too, and accepted it as she had learned to accept so many painful things.
With a skill won at great cost from the past, Angel reached for the serenity of the rose. When she had achieved it, she stirred in Hawkas embrace.
aI know what youare going to do,a Angel said, kissing Hawk gently, smiling against his lips. aYouare going fishing. Weare going to catch a beautiful dawn salmon.a Hawk lifted his head and looked at her. Tears came to Angel in a burning instant as she saw the pain and sadness and regret in Hawkas clear, dark eyes.
aItas all right,a she said, stroking his face. aPlease, Hawk. Believe me. I know youall do everything you can not to hurt me. I donat ask any more than that of you. Donat ask it of yourself. Please.a Hawk saw his own sadness and desire not to hurt reflected in Angelas haunted eyes.
And then he saw deeper, her certainty and her love. She understood his limitations, his lifetime beyond the closed circle of human warmth, his inability to love her as she deserved to be loved. Yet she loved him anyway.
Hawk bowed to that, and to Angel.
Very gently he kissed her palm, accepting her as she had accepted him.
25.
The minutes and hours, days and weeks with Hawk swept by, each with its own aching beauty. Angel didnat allow herself to count the days, to add them up and discover the end of summer coming toward her with each sunset. Loving and losing Grant had taught her not to live in the past.
Loving and knowing she would lose Hawk had taught Angel not to live in the future. Instead she lived in each moment, loving Hawk more with each touch, each smile, each shared memory.
aAngie?a Angel looked up, startled out of her thoughts by Derryas call. The tiny silver bells hanging from her ears rang sweetly with her sudden movement.
aIam in my studio,a she answered.
Derry swung easily into the room. He had long since overcome any awkwardness with his crutches. Nor had there been any awkwardness over Angelas changed relationship with Hawk. Angel knew that Hawk had talked to Derry, but she didnat know what had been said.
Any fear Angel might have had that Derry would resent her loving a man other than Grant had been erased when Derry hugged her and told her that she had never looked more beautiful.
aWhereas Hawk?a Derry asked.
aOn thea"a aPhone,a Derry finished, grimacing. aWho is it this time?a Angel shrugged and smiled sadly.
aTokyo, I guess,a she said. aHeas already talked with London, New York, Houston, L.A., and whoever was vacationing on Maui.a In the last week Hawk had spent more and more time on the phone. Despite her determination not to count, Angel knew that Hawk had already stayed past his original time limit. The complex, interlocking business transactions that he had mentioned when he first came to the island were coming to fruition.
aFrom what Iave gathered,a Angel said, athings are getting to the crisis stage.a aHawk and I will probably take the same plane off the island,a said Derry.
Tomorrow Derry would finally get his cast removed and fly to Harvard. His dream of becoming a doctor had been made possible by Hawk, who had bought Eagle Head for more than Derry thought the land was worth.
But as pleased as Derry was about his own future, when he mentioned leaving, Derry saw the quick flash of pain that Angel couldnat wholly conceal.
aHey,a Derry said quickly, aIall visit you in Seattle.a He didnat say anything about Hawk visiting her, because it never occurred to Derry that Hawk would not be in Seattle too.
Angel smiled and kissed Derryas cheek.
aSummers and holidays,a she agreed.
But the instant Derry could no longer see her face, Angelas mouth turned down in a sad curve.
Yes, Derry will come back to me.
Hawk will not.
aI think Iall take my sketch pad and go up to Eagle Head,a Angel said. aIf Hawk gets off the phone before five, give him directions to the old Smith homestead. The raspberries are ripe, and heas never gone berrying.a aHe got his salmon, though.a Angel smiled. Yes, Hawk had caught his dawn salmon, had known the thrilling, primal power of the fish as it leaped and tail-walked across the radiant sea. The look of awe and delight on Hawkas face as he had felt the seething, silver life was something Angel would remember long after the pain of losing him had faded. If it ever faded.
She had never known anyone like Hawk. She could only guess what life would feel like when he was gone.
aI still donat know why he turned that salmon loose,a Derry said.
aIt was too beautiful to kill.a aSo were the other fish he caught, but we ate them anyway, and quarreled over the last sc.r.a.p.a aThey werenat the first salmon of dawn,a Angel said simply, remembering and loving Hawk until she thought she would break.
Derry hesitated, seeing the depth of emotion that transformed Angel.
aI may have dragged you out of that wreck,a Derry said softly, abut itas Hawk who brought you alive. Iam so glad, Angie. There were times when I was afraid that I had condemned you to a lifetime of unhappiness.a Angel hugged Derry a little fiercely, then grabbed her sketch pad and fled.
She thought of Derryas words as she climbed the steep trail to the top of Eagle Head. The small chiming bells around her wrist and ankle kept her company with each step. She was still thinking about Derryas words as she sat on the very edge of the summit, sketch pad forgotten in her lap.
Before her was the Inside Pa.s.sage, the restless sea and ragged islands crowned with evergreens. Peak after peak fell away to the east, receding into a distance veiled with a blue so deep that it verged on black.
Both harsh and serene, the country called to her senses as nothing hada"until Hawk. He was like the land itself, a paradox of stone and warmth, midnight and noon, the enigmatic distance of the horizon and the intimate textures of the air, the salt of the sea and the sweetness of berries heavy with the promise of harvest.
aYou love this land, donat you?a Hawkas quiet question didnat startle Angel. Beneath her concentration on the view had been a growing awareness of Hawkas presence, a subtle certainty like the knowledge of her own heartbeat deep inside her body.
aMore than anything except you,a Angel said simply.
Then she realized that she had done exactly what she had been trying so hard to avoid. She had spoken of her love for Hawk. She didnat want to hurt him with the very words that should give him pleasure.
aWhat time is it?a Angel asked, speaking quickly.
She didnat want there to be any silence that might seem like a demand that Hawk speak to her of love. She didnat expect that of him.
She never had, once she understood what his life had been like.
aItas almost five,a Hawk said.
aDo you have time to go berrying?a aI made time.a Angel looked into Hawkas dark eyes and saw the future coming down on her in a soundless rush.
He will be leaving.
Soon.
It was there in Hawkas eyes, in his voice, in the fact that he had made time to be with her.
aAngela"a said Hawk tightly, seeing the shadows deepen in her eyes, knowing why.
Overhead an eagle called. The high, savagely beautiful whistle descended until there was nothing left but silence and empty sky.
aWead better hurry,a she said aWe havenat much time.a Angel came to her feet in a graceful surge. As she moved, silver bells cried and chimed.
The exquisite sounds went into Hawk like a thousand tiny knives. His arms came around Angel, lifting her off her feet. He held her with all his strength and kissed her as though the world was crumbling beneath their feet.
Time stopped until Hawk finally released Angel, allowing her to lead him down the rocky path. Neither of them spoke, content to share the otheras presence with simple touches, gentle smiles, swift looks, as though each feared the other had vanished between one heartbeat and the next.
The silence remained while they drove to the berry patch. It was at the end of an abandoned, rutted road. A long time ago there had been a farmhouse, neat fields, and the orderly rows of a home garden. Now the fields were nearly consumed by returning forest. All that remained were waist-high fieldstone fences where raspberry bushes strove and twined thickly, growing over stone and field alike.
An ancient, magnificent climbing rose mantled the ruined stone chimney, all that remained of the farmhouse. From this bush had come the crimson rose that bloomed deep within Angelas mind, triumphant and serene. She had first seen the Smith homestead and the climbing rose as a child. She had been haunted by the rose ever since.
As though at a distance, Angel heard the car trunk close. Hawk was standing near the rosebush, waiting for her. He had empty pails in one hand, a picnic basket in the other, and a thick quilt over his shoulder.
Angel took a deep breath, letting the future slide away, taking all shadows with it. There was only this instant, Hawk waiting for her, smiling his heartbreaking, beautiful smile.
She walked toward Hawk, wrapped in the sweet chiming of bells. She looked at the picnic basket and smiled at Hawk in return, loving him for thinking of it.
aA picnic,a Angel said softly. aWhat a wonderful idea.a aI have ulterior motives,a Hawk said, his voice deep. aAs much as I like Derry, I want some time just with you.a Angelas smile slipped, then steadied. She understood how Hawk felt. They were alone only when they were on the boat or late at night when the house was all darkness. There hadnat been enough time for just being together, sharing the silences and small touches that spoke so eloquently of their pleasure in each other.
Not enough time.
How much time is left? Angel thought.
Not enough.
Deliberately, Angel tilted her face up to the old climbing rose. A single blossom remained, its petals soft and quivering, gathering the rich afternoon light into each luminous crimson curve.
She closed her eyes and wondered if the fragile rose knew that winter was closer with each sunset.
Hawk bent and kissed Angelas lips gently. He sensed the sorrow in her, knew its cause, and was helpless to ease it.
The thought of how he was hurting Angel tore at Hawk, making him bleed in ways he had never imagined possible. He knew that the longer he spent with her, the greater the hurt would be each time she was brought up against his inability to love her as she should be loved.
Every day Hawk had promised himself that he would leave Angel, set her free, stop hurting her.
And every day he had awakened and seen an angel sheltered in the dark curve of his body. She would look at him, smiling, and he would know that he could not leave her.
Not yet.
He had to taste for a few more hours the miracle of her love.
aWhere should we begin?a Hawk asked, lifting his mouth just enough to let Angel answer.
aIn the center,a she murmured, rubbing her lips against his. aI know a path through the center of the brambles. Thatas where the sweetest berries are. Surrounded by thorns.a aAnd mosquitoes?a aA few,a Angel admitted. aNo such thing as a free lunch, remember?a Hawk smiled. aI remember. Thatas why I brought insect repellent. I didnat want anything but me biting your smooth skin.a Angel felt a frisson of desire race through her. The more Hawk touched her, the more she wanted to be touched by him. She never tired of his lovemaking, of having him become a part of her.
aItas in my pocket,a Hawk said. aWould you get it?a He held out his hands to her, showing that they were fully occupied with buckets and picnic basket and couldnat be expected to pull a bottle of insect repellent from a tight pocket.
First, Angel tried the back pockets of Hawkas jeans, which was where she carried repellent when she thought to bring it. Hawkas back pockets were empty. She tried his front pockets, wiggling her hands into the worn, confining cloth.
aNothing,a Angel said.
aKeep searching,a Hawk said, the corners of his mouth curling in a secret smile beneath his mustache. aYouall find it.a For a few seconds Angel took Hawk at his word and wriggled her fingers around in his pockets. Then she felt the heat and hardness of him swelling beneath his jeans.
aYouare teasing me,a she said, trying to look angry and failing utterly.